Outdoor Stupid From Around The World: Humorous Tales of Close Calls in the Outdoors Worldwide

By Bob Bell

Outdoor Stupid From Around The World is Bob Bell's third book. The first two were about the Alaskan adventures of Bob and his band of I.Q. challenged friends. They are titled Oh no! we're gonna die and Oh no! we're gonna die Too. The first book is mostly Bob's misadventures, and the second is about his friend's attempts to get themselves killed in the Alaska Wilderness. During his travels around the world hunting and fishing, Bob met many guides, outfitters, professional hunter and their clients. They related several stories to him, many of which are included in Outdoor Stupid. These stories show that the love of the outdoors exists everywhere your go. Also, that I.Q. challenged decisions are an international curse. Outdoor Stupid, like his other books, is also humorous, but again, it conveys the apprehension, excitement, and relief involved in life-threatening adventures. Outdoor Stupid takes the reader on adventures throughout the world with a whole new cast of characters who continue the tradition of questionable judgment and bad luck.These stories will give you an insight into the excitement and pitfalls of high-risk outdoor adventures. Several of these tales also involve a lack of intelligence or clear thinking, which definitely adds to the excitement.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publication Consultants
• Release date: Dec 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637470817

Bob Bell

Bob Bell grew up in the small eastern Washington town of Ephrata. He spent his early years chasing jack rabbits, upland birds and mule deer through the sagebrush of the surrounding country. After graduating from Ephrata High School, he enrolled in the civil engineering program at Washington State University where he earned a bachelors degree. He was commissioned a 2nd lieutenant in the U.S. Army. He spent the next year as a platoon leader at Fort Belvoir, Virginia and then a year in Viet Nam. All his life he had listened to stories about Alaska from his mom and dad who had lived in Naknek in the early 1930's and from his granddad who was United States Commissioner of Fisheries under President Franklin Roosevelt and therefore spent a lot of time in Alaska. So in 1969 when he had completed his obligation to the Army, he packed up his very pregnant wife, his German shepherd dog and his 1966 Mustang and headed north. He has been working and recreating throughout Alaska ever since. He served six years on the Anchorage Municipal Assembly, ran for mayor of Anchorage and still operates his engineering and surveying firm headquartered in Anchorage.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

In the past several years I have had the good fortune to experience outdoor adventures around the world. I have traveled to Argentina, Africa, New Zealand, Vietnam, Mexico, Canada and the Lower 49 states. While on these trips I have met numerous guides, outfitters and professional hunters, as well as their clients. They were kind enough to provide me with many of these stories which I have obviously embelished to add humor and interest.

My first two books mostly dealt with Alaska stories and the really stupid things people did to get themselves in trouble. My international travels have shown me that not all the outdoor idiots are in Alaska. They are well represented throughout the world.

You would think a person who could accumulate the financial resources to afford an international outdoor adventure would have a few smarts. I believe the folks depicted in these stories are of two types. The first is people who are intelligent, experienced and folks with lots of common sense. They also seem to have an uncanny ability to disregard these assets when pursuing outdoor adventures. The second group inherited their money and are just plain stupid.

It really takes a lot of effort and some less than logical decisions to get yourself into a life-threatening situation hunting most critters. The exceptions are grizzly bears and the big five in Africa. With them it takes a lot less effort.

These stories are prime examples of how people can turn a casual hunting trip into a frantic fight for survival with just one or two wrongheaded decisions and a little bad luck. Some, myself included, have done so on multiple occasions.

So travel through the misadventures in this book with us as we deal with charging lions and buffalo, attacking elk and free falling tahr. You will meet several characters, both relatively normal people who somehow transform into nut cases when in the outdoors and the guides who try to keep them alive.

People participate in the outdoors for adventure, excitement and new experiences. The folks in these stories add terror, humiliation, close calls and exhaustion to that list. I hope you enjoy following them in the book.

Chapter I

AFRICA

1. WARTHOGS AND HIPPOS

Most animals in Africa are stately and beautiful critters. The sable is a prime example of a beautiful animal with its curved horns and spectacular coat. The Cape buffalo is very stately and impressive to view, preferably from a distance. Two exceptions to this observation are the hippo and the warthog. They are both just plain butt ugly, in different but equally repulsive ways. The hippo is a big fat, beady eyed critter with a huge mouth and very large teeth. He is mean spirited and will try to kill you every chance he gets. Another little fun fact is that when you shoot a hippo all the other hippos get really pissed and also want to kill you. It is just best to avoid these critters due to the danger and their appearance. I have never hunted hippos because I don’t know what I would do with a mounted head that every time you walk into the room you have to look away. Maybe I could justify a hippo hunt on the basis that I would look handsome, by comparison. Other than that, there is no redeeming value.

Then we have the warthog. To begin with, any animal who is named after a wart can’t be that attractive. The warthog manages to take ugly to several levels. First, we have the warts on his face. These aren’t just little plantar warts, they are great big gnarly warts with hairs growing out of them. Then you have the wrinkly skin, also with stiff kinky hairs growing at random in little bunches all over the face and body. Add to this the big tusks sticking out of his mouth and the beady eyes and you pretty much have a grand slam of ugly. Oh, I forgot, the thin little tail covered in skin except for a little tuft of kinky hair on the end that stands straight up when he runs. They say there is a fine line between love and hate. Well there is also a fine line between beautiful and ugly and the warthog is right on that line. If he was just a little bit uglier he would be beautiful. I did shoot a warthog several years ago and had a head mount done. He now competes for the ugly prize in my office with the wild boar I got in Hawaii. Most people think the warthog wins hands down.

The first part of our story has to do with hippos. The professional hunter (PH) was Pieter, born and raised in Africa and a very experienced PH. Pieter’s clients were a man and his wife, Ralph and Bertha. They were an American couple from Ephrata, Washington a pleasant little berg surrounded by sage brush perched on the high Columbia plateau on the east side of the state. He was a dentist and she was a CPA. They were a very pleasant couple on their first safari. They started out shooting plains game and then went to the next level with a Cape buffalo. There is a big difference between shooting impala and shooting Cape buffalo. First of all, it is unlikely an impala will kill you. This is not so true for Cape buffalo. On the first morning they found a very large dugga boy (older Cape buffalo bull) hanging out with some of his lady friends in thick brush. He didn’t seem to be inclined to come out into the open, so they went in after him. It is this kind of decision that tends to add drama to dangerous game hunts. The possibility of hand to horn combat was high. After quite a bit of maneuvering, Ralph got in a position to give the bull 400 grains of lead through the bread basket at a range of not much. The bull crashed off into the brush and his lady friends went in all directions to include close proximity to our hunters. Having a Cape buffalo cow careen past you so close you feel the wind she creates is definitely a pucker experience. The bull only went a short distance and piled up quite dead. His girlfriends exited the area and I am sure went looking for another prince charming. Ralph and Bertha thought this was all great fun. They had no clue as to the danger involved. Pieter was remiss in not filling them in on the downside of chasing a ton of nasty in thick brush.

There were several days left in the safari so Ralph inquired as to the possibility of taking a hippo. This hunt took place some time ago so it was possible for Pieter to get a permit in short order. Within a day they had their permit and were all set to go hippo hunting.

One problem is that when you shoot a hippo in the water he sinks to the bottom of the river. You wait until the body develops some gases that float him back to the surface. Then you take the boat out and attach a rope to a leg and tow him back to the bank so you can pull the carcass out of the water with the truck. All very simple and safe. It becomes more complicated when you don’t have a boat. Pieter had not contemplated hunting hippos, so his boat was back at his house several hundred miles away. This necessitated coming up with an alternative plan. I often write disparagingly about my planning protocol. Pieter being a professional hunter is much more adept at planning, but even a professional can slip up when planning on the run. The die was cast. They were going to do an impromptu hippo hunt, not usually a good idea with dangerous game. Of course his clients are still operating in the ignorance is bliss mode.

Hippos at the pool

They had been seeing a big bull in a large pool in the river. The problem with this bull was the deep water and the distance to shore, making retrieving a hippo from this venue a serious problem. He was staying put so they decided to look at what else was available in the area. After a few days of looking at various smaller animals in less problematic locations they decided their first choice was the right one, but they needed a plan on how to get him out of the water. Hence, planning on the run to include the impromptu thing!

Having observed this critter for a few days they determined that he came out of the river every day to lay in the sun at about 10:00 AM. If they could shoot the bull on the sand bar then the boat problem would be moot. Also by shooting him at 10:00 AM they would have the whole day to work on him and be back to camp by dinner. A good simple plan for good simple people. There should be no problems. As noted above, hunting plans made on the spur of the moment seldom work out. Well, technically, they all work out, just not as planned or with the results desired.

The next day our crew had a leisurely breakfast and then drove to the river. They stopped about a mile from the pool and made their stalk to get in range. They were in position by 9:45 AM. All the hippos were still in the river. With the female and young ones there were about 50 animals. They had been there about five minutes when the cows and calves started to come out of the water and then they would fall over and just lie there in the sun like big piles of blubber. The plan was going fine. The bull was the last one out. Problem was he flopped down right behind a cow so there was no shot. They had to relocate without spooking the animals. This involved crawling through a bunch of mud and hippo poop which was not a pleasant experience for any of them. The plan was developing some issues.

They finally got into position. Ralph placed his rifle in the shooting sticks and took his time to make a good shot. It was only 50 yards so it should be a clean kill with the hippo lying conveniently on the sand bar. They could drive the truck right up to him – piece of cake. The gun goes off and total chaos breaks out. Fifty hippos are running for the water all at once with sand and water flying in all directions. It was like a horse stampede except with really short fat horses. When the commotion was over there is no hippo lying on the sand bar, but there were lots of very angry hippos in the river directing their wrath at the hunters. This was not part of the plan. They moved down to the bank of the river to look for the bull. As they approached the water, the hippos were making false charges and acting very aggressive. You really have to experience it to comprehend so much ugly and anger concentrated in one place. In the meantime, all the crocodiles had submerged so no idea where they were. Also not part of the plan. In fact all parts of the plan, other than shooting the hippo, were pretty well negated. Some of Ralph and Bertha’s bliss was fading away. Crawling through hippo poop was not in the plan and now the wounded hippo in the water.

It didn’t take long before they spotted the bull among the other animals. The client gave him a killing shot and, of course, he promptly sank to the bottom of the pond. Now they have a problem. They found themselves in the wait for the gas stage, but with no boat, their options were bad and real bad. They could wait for him to float to shore if the wind was right. Otherwise if he got caught in the faster current below the pool he would float off down the river like a large ugly grey balloon. Kind of a water version of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, except with a really ugly balloon. There was also the problem concerning the crocs starting to feed on him in which case he would be gone in a flash that would be bad for the hunters, but a good deal for the crocs. The real bad option was for Pieter to swim out to the hippo when he popped up and tie a rope to him so he could be pulled to shore. This option would require excellent swimming skills and a large dose of stupid on Pieter’s part. He had both.

Did you ever wonder what it would be like to just quit your job in the accounting department and go to Africa and be a professional hunter? A life of adventure, leading adoring clients on magical safaris throughout the Dark Continent. Well, this situation should snap you back to reality.

Pieter took off his shirt and boots and prepared to swim through a crocodile infested river populated by 50 really mad hippos and maybe even a snake or two. He must have been thinking, What the heck am I doing here? Have I gone mad? He turned to Ralph and said, If a hippo or a crocodile grabs me please shoot me as quick as you can. Ralph looked hesitant in that regard. He was sure he didn’t have a professional hunter harvest tag. He wouldn’t want to get crosswise with the authorities.

After a short, but intense, prayer, Pieter jumped in the river and took off like an Olympic swimmer on steroids. Only his hands and feet were touching the water and they were going so fast they were just a blur. There was a three foot rooster tail shooting out behind him. He got to the hippo in one minute and 46.935 seconds. A new Zambezi River record for the quarter mile. A couple of crocodiles tried to take him like a dry fly, but he was going so fast that they missed. He jumped up on the hippo and hyperventilated for a few minutes and then tied a rope to a foot and the guys dragged him and his prize to the sand bar with the truck, the crocodiles were sullenly following behind hoping for a PH appetizer. At this point I am sure there was some discussion as to the appropriate tip for this hunt. They spent the next several hours cutting up the critter and hauling it back to camp. It was 1:30 in the morning when they finished. That is a long day. They missed dinner. Ralph had got his Cape buffalo and his hippo without any stress, at least not for him. Well, they did miss dinner, so now what?

There were still two days left in the safari so Ralph decided he would like to finish up with a warthog. After the hippo brouhaha Pieter was more than happy to take them on a nice easy hunt from a comfortable blind. In Africa this is called a hide which seems much more appropriate. The hide was next to a water hole. Pieter had arranged for a Spanish cameraman named Jose to come with them to record the hunt. He was on a plains game hunt but also wanted to record several warthog hunts for some unknown reason. We all have our demons, I guess his was warthogs. He was a slim 30 year old guy in relatively good physical condition, so it was reasonable to assume he could take care of himself. Or not!! After he had been in camp for a few days the other PHs said they didn’t want him to go with them because he thinks he knows everything and, in fact, doesn’t know diddly squat about hunting in Africa. Besides he was an arrogant dip wad and these were his good traits. Pieter, for some reason, felt he could manage Jose just fine so off they went to the water hole. Bad karma hung in the air like a dense fog, but hey, what could go wrong on a warthog hunt?

The location was a mud dam with a soil berm about 12 feet above the water at the high end. It was quite steep with hardly any brush or grass, mostly just dirt and mud. The pond was about two acres in size. The hide sat near the edge of the water across from the dam. A standard set up, sans the Spanish videographer.

When they got there Pieter asked Jose to join them in the hide because from this angle he could see the whole dam and the pond. Stubborn as he was, he said no he was going to set up on the high side of the dam because he knows better. There is an old saying good judgement comes from experience and a lot of that comes from bad judgement. Jose was about to gain a lot of experience. No sense arguing with the man so Pieter and Ralph went and sat in the hide. It was made of branches and logs and was quite comfortable. It was just a matter of waiting patiently for a hog to come in for a drink and then shoot him. Can’t get any easier than that!

In the meantime Jose was putting up his tripod next to the only brush on the dam and covering it with a camo net. He was busy fiddling around with this task when a big boar warthog came in (ugly even for a warthog) and went straight to the water and began to drink. Pieter told Ralph to take him and then glanced over to see if Jose was aware of what was going on. He was not! There was no way for Pieter to alert Jose without spooking the hog so he just focused on the hog assuming Jose would be alerted when the gun went off. Ralph let fly and at the shot the pig took off like a rocket, spewing blood and heading for the only cover in sight which was the brush at the top of the high end of the dam, right where Jose was setting up. I am sure the camo net looked like brush to a panicked pig so he slammed right into it a full throttle. Now you have a big bundle of Jose, the camera, the tripod, most of the brush and the pig all wrapped in the camo net rolling down the bank with Jose screaming and the pig squealing, or vice versa, hard to tell, until they reach the bottom of the bank where they piled up in a steaming pile of debris, camo net, blood, sweat and urine. This is an extreme example of the adage, When you wallow in the mud with a pig, expect to get dirty. Then, things got quiet, very quiet, except for the laughter from Pieter and Ralph. Pieter noted that Ralph had a deep throaty laugh, like the sound you make just before you puke. Anyhow, the pig was dead, Jose was alive, but covered in pig blood and guts and his camera and tripod looked like a piece of scrap metal. They say Sometimes you get and sometimes you get got. Jose had just got got!

Ralph with his warthog

They untangled Jose and washed him off in the pond, which took considerable time. These tasks are difficult to do when you are laughing. Jose’s frame of mind was less then jovial so he didn’t participate in the laughter. In fact, he seemed a little put off by their glee. Once he was cleaned up, which was a relative term seeing as how the pond was the color and consistency as pea soup, they went back to camp. When they got there Pieter asked Jose if he got the video. No reply. Jose took a shower and then asked Tarina to arrange a flight back to Spain. Never saw him again.

As I noted at the beginning of this story hippos and warthogs are really ugly critters, but sometimes the hunts for them can be just as ugly. We have two examples of that here.

Ralph and Bertha went home with their trophies and with some great stories to tell. Pieter collected his fees and tip (a little extra for the swimming demonstration) and moved on to the next safari and Jose, well, maybe he is a little more humble than he used to be. Probably not, but he is more experienced.

2. BUFFALO TUNNEL VISION

Most discussions of African animals usually end up including the Big Five which is the lion, leopard, elephant, rhino and buffalo. All of these animals are considered dangerous game and have the capability of making your African hunt a lot less enjoyable and considerably shorter than you planned. It is not good when your return flight is in the cargo hold.

Of the five, the buffalo, locally known as Black Death, kills or injures more African professional hunters (PHs) than any other animal. Some would say that being shot by their client should be included on this list. Due to this unnerving fact most PHs with an I.Q. of over 50, which is well over half of them, tend to be a little cautious when hunting these critters. They don’t want to end up being compressed between 2,000 pounds of enraged buffalo and a tree or any other awkward situation while the client is frozen in place or running like the wind for the truck. I know of one PH who was just walking across a field when a dugga boy came charging out of the brush and drove a horn right through his thigh and then threw him 15 feet up into a tree. The tree saved his life as the dugga boy couldn’t reach him to accomplish his goal of complete annihilation, but he still spent a month in the hospital. He didn’t have a client with him so it wasn’t a work-related injury, therefore no workers’ comp. claim.

If you enter into the murky world of PHs you will hear some very scary stories and see a lot of scars. You have to wonder why someone would wake up one day and say to himself, I think I will become a buffalo PH instead of being a bomb disposal technician because it is more dangerous and exciting. I guess it just takes a special kind of person to get into this line of work. I will leave it up to you to define special.

This particular hunt took place in Tanzania. The PH was a long-time African hunter named Louis and the clients were two German veterinarians named Hans and Fritz, embarking on their first African safari. They were both young and fit men described by the PH’s wife as stunningly well built. Not sure how Louis interpreted that comment. If my wife were to make a comment like that about a couple of young studs I would probably be a little taken aback. They were both friendly and outgoing gentlemen but with limited hunting experience, comprised of hunting pigs, deer etc. in Europe. So no critters that could eat you or stomp you to death. Therefore the jury was still out in regard to their capacity to confront dangerous game. PHs find themselves on many safaris where there is no jury to be found in this regard.

The plan was to hunt plains game and then try for buffalo. Louis wanted to assess their hunting skills and shooting ability before taking on dangerous game. He found them quite competent in regard to stalking and shooting. They also seemed calm and collected, but, of course, they were in very little danger of being gored by a wildebeest or a kudu, the issue of how they would act under stressful situations was not fully addressed. In fact, not addressed at all. You don’t prepare for a gun fight by throwing Frisbees. This is typical for most professional hunters. Most of their clients come to them untested on dangerous game. This makes it a high stakes crap shoot every time. That is why they carry a .416 and wear running shoes. A flak jacket to catch any rounds coming from an overly excited client would probably be off-putting to the client so they are not employed. In any regard it does keep the PH focused and his life insurance premiums high.

The camp was pretty common. A few tents for sleeping, a mud and reed hut for a kitchen and a deck for dining. There was a cook and a helper and the only other staff was the tracker. It was typical South African country comprised of mostly rolling hills covered in brush with lots of openings, including, a few tall trees. Lots of tall grass, very tall grass. The grass was also very thick. It formed a solid wall of green 10 feet high. You could hide a herd of elephants in that stuff. Probably why they call it elephant grass. For the plains game the grass was not an issue as these critters seldom went into the grass and even if they did it didn’t pose any danger. Most dangerous game animals do go into the tall grass, particularly, when wounded. This creates a whole new set of scenarios, none of which are desirable. With lions, leopards, hippos, snakes and buffalo churning around in the grass with limited visibility it is a good activity to avoid if possible.

The first few days were spent hunting plains game. Each of the clients took several animals to include zebra, wildebeest, impala, and hartebeest. All of the stalks went well and everyone was having a good time. Hans and Fritz dropped all their animals with one or two shots, so Louis was feeling good about their ability to take on a dugga boy, but sometimes good feelings can be misleading. I always get a good feeling when the blackjack dealer deals me a face card while he is showing a six. Then he ends up with 21 and me at 19. The good feeling then goes away. In the case of dangerous game much more than the good feeling can go away when things turn against you. Cape buffalo can arrange it so that you no longer have any feelings at all.